


a moment's peace

by wingedgrace



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics)
Genre: Batfamily Feels, Dick Grayson and Damian Wayne are Siblings, Dick Grayson is Batman, Dick Grayson is Damian Wayne’s Parent, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Platonic Cuddling, all the love and cuddles and fluff, and he's trying his best, he's both really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:21:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27272614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedgrace/pseuds/wingedgrace
Summary: Dick Grayson held his brother closer to his chest and smiled.(Set while Dick and Damian were Batman and Robin.)
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne
Comments: 22
Kudos: 243





	a moment's peace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArcherSceptile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcherSceptile/gifts).



> holy shit this is the fluffiest thing I’ve ever written. so sugary-sweet that I will apologize in advance for any cavities you get.

Dick Grayson held his brother closer to his chest and smiled. 

The first time it happened, it had been after one of their semi-frequent movie nights. Damian had fallen asleep on the couch, the kid curling up into the arm of the chair, sleep relaxing him in a way that made him actually look as young as his ten years.

Dick could have woken up his younger brother and sent him off to bed, but he couldn’t resist the rare opportunity to pick him up and hold him. Without the tension and stress of Batman carrying an injured Robin. It was soft and sweet and family; a moment of tenderness in their world of violence and pain.

Damian had stirred instantly, as soon as he was touched. Because the kid had been raised in the League of Assassins and currently held the Robin mantle, and both required one to hold themselves constantly alert for danger. Dick expected him to wriggle out of the hold and insist he could walk unassisted, but after murmuring “it’s just me, Dami, let me carry you to bed,” his brother… _actually relaxed,_ and drifted back into a groggy semi-sleep state, and Dick almost teared up at this level of trust.

Here was a boy who had been raised to expect knives thrust into his back any time he let his guard down. But he felt safe, and loved, in this moment.

Neither of them brought it up the next day, Dick not wanting Damian to feel awkward, or Damian to deny it having happened. It was also entirely possible Damian had been too sleepy to remember it happening, and Dick (selfishly) wanted the illusion that Damian shared the memory and appreciated that beautiful moment of simple comfort. Where he got to hold Damian like the kid he was. The kid he should have been, had Talia not groomed him into a child soldier.

But he didn’t hold it against Damian to have turned out this way. This was simply a one-off. A fluke. A highly unlikely, glorious gift, that he would treasure forever. 

He never expected a second moment.

And this time, Dick suspected that Damian had never truly fallen asleep in the first place. They had had a long, hard night on patrol, and both of them had been awake for 25 consecutive hours.

Dick usually tried to make idle chat when he drove Damian anywhere in the Batmobile, but he was just too exhausted, and knew Damian wouldn’t mind a silent trip for once. The boy had trained in harsh, sleepless conditions with the League, and Dick himself had spent his days in Bludhaven rotating between his job as a police officer, patrolling as Nightwing and about three hours of sleep. But being used to something didn’t necessarily make it more pleasant, just more manageable.

He turned to ask Damian what the longest period of time he’d spent awake was, but Robin’s head was lolling in the seat, in a way that suggested his eyes would be closed underneath the domino mask.

Different than the attitude of his Nightwing smirk, or the snarky threat of a grin from Batman, he felt his lips curling up in a small smile.

He decreased the acceleration as slowly as possible as they reached the cave, bringing the car to a much gentler stop than was typical of the Batmobile.

Lifting his boy out of the passenger seat was harder than he thought it would be, as Damian went ragdoll-limp. That alone convinced Dick that he was simply pretending to sleep, and it made Dick feel warm and fuzzy inside as well as bitterly sad. How cute and adorable it was that the kid wanted to be carried to bed. How devastatingly heartbreaking that he didn’t know how to ask and would rather fake sleep than show weakness.

Laying him in bed, Dick removed the Robin armour piece by piece, knowing that the thin stretchy layer underneath was comfortable enough to sleep in. He pulled back the cowl, hesitated briefly, and then planted a kiss in Damian’s hair before leaving the room. 

And that was how it started. More and more often, Damian would “fall asleep,” and Dick would have to carry him to his room, and neither of them acknowledged what had happened in the morning.

Dick enjoyed it thoroughly no matter the circumstances. If they were returning to the Batcave, carrying him was the blessed opportunity for Batman to carry Robin simply because he was sleepy, not due to injury or sedative or fear gas. If he “fell asleep” in the Manor, it was a lovely little occurrence of domestic bliss not usually afforded to vigilante heroes. 

And then there were moments like this one. Where watching a movie in the dark was the perfect excuse for grumpy, prickly, closed-off Damian to slowly inch closer to Dick on the couch, “fall asleep” halfway through the movie, and snuggle against Dick for the remaining runtime.

Dick put an arm overtop of Damian who was still Definitely Asleep.

It reminded him a bit of living with his parents at the circus. When sometimes his mom or dad would read him a bedtime story, and snuggle with him in one of the bunk beds of their caravan, squished together with how small everything was packed in.

He missed them.

But if he hadn’t lost them, he would never have met Damian. Never met such an incredible child who had been through so much and yet still cared so deeply. Sometimes he didn’t know what he’d done to earn the right to Damian’s trust. He didn’t know how to be a… a parent. He hardly knew how to be a proper Batman, and he’d been a vigilante for most of his life. But raising a child was something he had almost no experience in at all. And Damian was definitely more of a challenge than average ten-year-olds.

But somehow he’d managed to say and do enough of the right things to prove that he cared for Damian, and the kid had latched onto him. Even though he still felt the need for subterfuge when confiding his emotions, Damian still expressed them. He lashed out when he felt insecure, knowing Dick would pick up on it and assure him. He admitted that Dick was an adequate crime-fighting partner, knowing that Dick could read between the lines and see that Damian was expressing the magnitude of how much he cared.

He would fake being asleep, knowing that Dick would carry him.

When the credits began to roll, Dick reached his arms under Damian’s shoulders and the crook of his knees. He expected Damian to go limp as usual, but instead the boy looped his arms around Dick’s neck and leaned in closer.

This time Dick had to work extra hard at not letting the tears spill out. It was one thing for Damian to passively allow himself to be carried. But to actively participate (even though his eyes were still closed in “sleep”) was quite another. 

Dick Grayson held his brother closer to his chest and smiled.

He walked the hallway to Damian’s bedroom, holding his posture steady so as not to move Damian’s hands and break the spell and have Damian feel self-conscious enough that he retracted his arms. Damian Wayne did not give hugs. Well, not until now, he didn’t. Dick didn’t want the moment to ever end.

He reached the doorway to Damian’s room much sooner than he wished. Giving the kid’s forehead a quick peck of a kiss, he set him gently down on his bed, already mourning the loss when Damian’s arms slipped lazily off of his shoulders and onto the sheets. He pulled the covers up to Damian’s chin – trying to remember how his parents used to do it; how Bruce used to do it – and cupped a hand to Damian’s head.

“I love you, Damian. Goodnight.”

His hand felt cold as he pulled it away from Damian’s cheek. He inched closer to the door, not wanting to end the moment.

And then Damian’s lips moved. “Love you. Grayson.”

He was almost out of hearing range for a whisper, and it came so softly that he almost thought he imagined it. But he’d seen Damian’s lips move, he’d seen, he’d seen and his heart was so full it was almost painful.

Hardened, guarded, arrogant Damian, who loudly prattled about his self-sufficiency in an attempt to hide his desperate need for love and acceptance.

That same Damian. The one who’d been taught compassion was a weakness to be exploited. Damian loved _him,_ deeply enough that he’d let down his walls for Dick to see. Made himself vulnerable, because he knew how much those words meant to Dick.

Raising his younger brother was difficult. Had been difficult, and would continue to be difficult, of that he had no doubt.

But it was worth it, Dick smiled to himself, scrubbing a hand over wet eyes. So, so worth it.


End file.
